


There are more things in heaven and earth, Harry, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

by healingmirth



Category: The Irrefutable Truth About Demons
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 04:31:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/healingmirth/pseuds/healingmirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>boredom is the mother of invention</p>
            </blockquote>





	There are more things in heaven and earth, Harry, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [koanju (verstehen)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verstehen/gifts).



Harry'd thought being crazy would be less boring. He'd certainly met his fair share of crazy people, had studied some of them, had arguably worked for or dated others. They seemed to be having a lot more fun than he was having. The interrogations were _interesting_, but not fun. Then when the inspectors tired of playing bad cop/bad cop with him, they sent him back to his cell.

He spent his days locked in one room or another, for hours and hours and hours. Without company, he focused on any anomaly in the white walls and white tiles and white sheets, tracing it, imagining what might have caused it or where it might lead, until one day he noticed the tiny spider, dead, dried and tangled up into itself and missing a leg, near the high cobweb in the corner. And he stared stared stared at it, on that point of difference while he listened to the lack of sound in the hallway and wished, fucking _wished_ for something to be different. And then the spider moved.

***

He could hear Johnny's voice in his head, telling him to start his own cult and deflower some virgins. He could also hear Johnny's voice in his head telling him to just get high and let it all slide away.

Harry, though, he still wanted to know why, as much as he wanted to know how, but it was unlikely that he'd have any chance to answer those questions. Less still that he'd be able to investigate them properly. Even if he could hold on to his thoughts, he'd never be allowed back in a university to do any real work.

He lost hours to whatever meds they had him on, blending hazy dreams into hazy reality, and the prospect of being locked up with only his mind, forever, seemed frighteningly possible. Even if they removed the 'criminally' from the description of his insanity, Harry couldn't picture a life for himself out in what he'd always considered the real world. The best he could come up with was ending up in a squat like Bennie's, keeping his head down and stocking shelves in a Pak'N Save.

Bennie sure wasn't asking questions of him, and didn't seem to be in any rush to leave, either. It probably hadn't occurred to her to ask. She took these things for granted, inexplicable power and control over her life and her body coming and going with barely a raised eyebrow. Harry tried not to wonder what would have become of him if he'd grown up in a black lodge like she had.

She thought it was a game. "Hey buddy, hey buddy," she'd ask. "Who'd you light up today?"

No one, if he was lucky, but there was no telling what he'd unleashed without meaning to, or even from his dreams. Harry was not in the habit of making things happen because he willed them so. That had been Celia's gig, a power and persuasion that made people give way. Harry was in the habit of _making_ things work, or figuring out why they didn't. He didn't know what to do with the dark secrets of the universe rattling around inside his head, unasked-for.

He didn't know if he could command them. Didn't know if he wanted to. Boredom and curiosity warred, and in his clearer moments, he could be horrified for a breath or two, and then it would slip away, to join the anger that he'd lost hold of weeks before.


End file.
